Precipice

by J. Robert Kinney

  “Wha-?” he stammered.

  Great. He was awake. She drew her gaze away from the road to steal a quick glance to her right. He blinked several times, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight as the groggy fog began to lift from his brain. “Where am I?” His first words upon waking were clearly not directed at anyone in particular.

  “Try to remain still. You’re still tied up.” It was important to keep him calm so she could explain. These next steps were vital.

  “Shannon?” He still sounded out of sorts.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she reassured him. “You’re in my car right now. We’re on our way to the capitol building.”

  “Wh-?” He stammered unintelligibly for several seconds, but abruptly stopped as he noticed the continued presence of his bonds. He wiggled against their hold, but nothing happened. He tried to sit instead. That, too, failed and he toppled.

  Shannon’s hand darted out to slow his fall. “It’s okay, Dom. Relax.”

  “Wha-? Relax?” He got that tongue of his under control and words flew past his lips so fast it resulted in a steady stream of babble. “You’ve got me tied up in the seat of a car. You deceived me, you betrayed SISA, you betrayed our country!”

  “Randal…” She gently tried to interrupt, but he’d have no part of it.

  “You delivered me into a trap!”

  “Dominic.” This was going about as she expected…not well at all.

  “You handed me over to that freak to be bound and beaten in some dark dungeon. And now! Now, God only knows where you’re taking me.” He was borderline hyperventilating

  “Dom!” Her sudden yell jolted him out of his rambling and back to sanity for the moment. “I’m sorry. I just told you where we’re going, to the capitol.”

  “But-“

  “Let me finish.” Keeping him quiet was the only way to do this. “I need to explain something to you. Are you willing to listen?”

  He hesitated, then nodded and grunted.

  “Good.” She took a heavy sigh, “About a month before I was assigned as your partner, I was completing my exams at Camp Hell.”

  He nodded—even smirked—at the infamous nickname for the training camp all agents went through before joining SISA. Officially Camp Hale, named after one of its original founders, its absurd regimens and difficult working conditions earned the camp its unflattering nickname. Higher management publically denounced the moniker, but it was whispered they embraced the nickname and were proud of its reputation as the toughest training facility in the nation.

  She continued, “I received a call from a man I’d never met, a name I only knew from whispers. Director Dax.”

  “The Director Dax? Carter Dax?” He raised one eyebrow.

  “That’s the one.” She’d captured his attention now. “He wanted to meet with me. Gave me sketchy directions to this little Japanese sushi restaurant and bar outside of town.”

  She still saw that meeting in her mind as clearly as if it happened yesterday. “A few hours before the meeting, a small package was delivered to my apartment. It contained a small mp3 player with a recording. He wanted to use me differently than the rest of my peers.”

  Dominic seemed confused, but the fog was lifting. She wasn’t the bad guy he’d thought. As she further delved into her role as a spy, his jaw dropped.

  “So all this time…you were a mole? A double agent?”

  “Technically triple, I think? It did mean occasionally I needed to lie to you about what I knew or what I was doing. I’m sorry about that.” She was.

  “Who else knows?” He ignored her apology. Her misleading him a few times wasn’t the most important issue right now. “Does Sloan know?”

  She shook her head. “Only the Director. And now you. He said the fewer people who knew, the better.”

  “What did he want you to do?”

  “Just keep an eye on Yemi. Report anything I found out.”

  “So…you’ve known about Amadi and Yemi being brothers all along? You knew Amadi was still alive and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’m truly sorry about that. I did all I could to protect your partner, but this was bigger than him. I couldn’t tell you. I had my orders.”

  “Fine,” Dominic grumbled. She knew he felt betrayed, but hopefully he understood why she’d not told him. “So why didn’t you stop him before now?”

  “Yemi never fully trusted me. Deep down, he may have suspected…I don’t know. But then again, he didn’t truly trust anyone. He wouldn’t tell his right hand what his left was doing. I never managed to gather enough evidence to make a legit arrest with charges that would stick. Besides, we needed to let this plan run its course, so we could nab Yemi’s entire group. It’s not enough to just nail him.”

  “And I was part of that plan?”

  “I had to convince Yemi to trust me. I did what was necessary at the time.”

  “Wait.” He frowned. “I’m still tied up…How do I know you’re telling the truth now? You could be lying to keep me quiet in transport.”

  “You don’t know right now. For the moment, you’ll just have to trust your partner. I left the ropes on so you wouldn’t try anything stupid before I explained. But I promise I’ll untie you once we arrive and I’ll be handing you your gun back as well. Hopefully that will help make up your mind.”

  “Maybe…” Dominic was beginning to accept her story, but she could tell he still fumed at the deception. “I can’t believe you let me walk into that trap.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Dom…like I said, it was necessary. I couldn’t risk losing his trust and blowing this. Too much is at stake.”

  He again ignored her apology. She knew he wouldn’t fully trust her again until she handed over his gun. He glared at her and spoke. “So what do we do now?”

  “We’re meeting Yemi at the vault inside the capitol building…”

  “Wait…so there really is a vault?” he interrupted.

  “There is.”

  “But how? And who?”

  She took a deep breath before answering. “It’s a federal government stash. Mostly cash and gold. It’s worth billions. It’s Fort Knox, only more clandestine.” She spoke rapidly as she repeated the story Dax had shared with her.

  “After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, people freaked out. Americans felt invincible, but the attack proved we weren’t this intimidating, unassailable force. Our armor had shown a crack. Even after the war ended and we re-established ourselves at the top of the heap, there was real concern that a new enemy would attack the homeland again. So the top intelligence gurus in the country met at a small farmhouse here in Greenlake and hammered out arrangements.”

  “They met here? Why?” he demanded.

  “Well, we aren’t that far from DC. Plus, at the time, Greenlake was barely a town. A couple farming families and that was it. Discretion was key. One strategy they enacted was keeping a stash of money hidden in some no-name town. They were afraid someone might go after our financial system, plunge us into fiscal chaos and cripple the nation. The New York Stock Exchange, National Treasury, maybe Fort Knox…all were possible targets. As a safeguard, they decided to set aside a portion of the treasury in a place no one would ever know about. Gold bullion, national treasures, stacks of cash. And they settled on Greenlake.”

  “But surely the locals saw them moving the money…or building the vault…”

  “Well, obviously someone suspected or else no rumors would’ve surfaced. But they moved it in over months and years. Not even the mayor of Greenlake knows the true nature of what’s down there.”

  “And yet, Olayemi found out.”

  She grimaced. “We never discovered how, but bribery and torture are certainly not beneath him. He probably stumbled across the right person and got him to talk.”

  “But where’s the security? Wealth like that needs to be protected.”

  “Barbed wire and armed guards all over don’t exactly scream innocent small-town capitol building.
The rumors were rampant enough without watchtowers and military personnel dotting the Greenlake landscape.”

  “So nothing?”

  “Well, no…not nothing. Why do you think SISA was headquartered here in the first place? Dax knew about the vault.”

  Dominic sat silently for a minute, his mouth agape. She knew questions were flying through his mind, but they’d arrived at the capitol, so answers had to wait.

  “You ready?” Shannon asked. “Yemi bugged my main phone, but I used a burner to place a call while you were out. The Director is going to meet us here with Sloan. He’s also sending agents to round up Yemi’s gang downtown at the parade, where they’re running the distraction.”

  “What then? I doubt he’s going to let us just waltz in and ruin his plot. Surely he has contingency plans for a possible interruption.”

  “True.” She winked. “But we’ll have a few aces up our sleeves Yemi won’t see coming.”

  ***

  Director Dax stood without speaking in one corner of the room and watched Sloan tend to his agent. The poor man had been beaten, probably tortured, before being hung on the wall by iron chains around his wrists and ankles. No limit existed to human brutality. The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.

  Dax closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He had not told Krieger and Sloan, but he’d expected to find Amadi here. Shannon had left a message on the secure line, explaining the captured agent.

  The details were vague, a side effect of the code they devised, but she gave him plenty to work with. Yet even he was surprised she hadn’t mentioned what else they might find. The room adjacent to Amadi’s cell was home to another prisoner, this one a girl in her mid-twenties. She was unconscious, so unable to identify herself. Krieger knelt at her side, checking her wounds.

  “She appears to be fine. Other than a nasty bump on her head, she seems to have escaped the treatment your agent received.” Krieger said.

  “Then why is she still unconscious?” Dax asked.

  “Probably a combination of dehydration and a concussion. Maybe even drugged.” He shrugged. “She’s already stirring a bit though, so I’d guess she’ll be waking up soon.”

  “Good. Let’s get both of them to the car. We need to get moving.” He headed for the door, leaving Sloan and Krieger to carry their respective victims.

  Both men turned and gaped. “Get moving?” Krieger responded. “We need to call an ambulance. Amadi needs proper medical care and we aren’t doctors.”

  “No time. You just said they’ll be fine.”

  “No time for what?” Krieger caught the director’s drift and slid his arms underneath the girl to lift, but Sloan missed it.

  “I’ll fill you in on the way.” Dax groaned. “Now let’s go.”

  It was time to let them in on the secret he’d run solo to this point. He needed their assistance at that vault. Until now, he’d managed to keep them in the dark, but after finding Amadi and learning about Yemi’s plans, he needed to expand the circle of secrecy. He’d never planned on a civilian knowing, but at this point, he had no choice but to include Krieger. Besides, with his military background, he might come in handy.

  Chapter 35

  Lynch stood motionless, one step into an alley off the main road, near the end of the route, per his boss’s request. Floats, balloons, and local celebrities traversed the streets in front of him. It truly was a spectacle.

  He found himself enjoying the festive celebration as he waited for the right moment. The mayor and other elected officials led the way on the first float, so when they completed the parade route, there would be a good 45 minutes of floats still behind them. Right as the mayor’s float reached the end of the route, Lynch was to raise his hand in a wave. That was the signal.

  Up the hill at the capitol building, Yemi would put into motion his plans to break into the vault and walk away with millions—if not billions—in cash and gold. His signal, though, was two-fold in purpose.

  At the same time as the heist, others at the parade would also take action, firing into the crowd, creating chaos. They were a distraction, to keep law enforcement away from the capitol, but if possible, they also aimed to pull off a coup of their own, one a little more daring. Kidnapping local dignitaries.

  Lynch relished this role. He’d always craved power. No, that wasn’t it, he mused. It was respect. Even as a child, he’d craved respect. Attention. As the youngest of six born to a mother in and out of jail and a non-existent father, he was raised by his older siblings. They paid him little attention other than keeping him alive. He grew up street-smart, tough, and ruthless. But a drive and determination uncommon amongst the peers of his youth lifted him to a college education and a secure, high-paying job on Wall Street.

  But he wasn’t satisfied with investment banking. The money opened doors, but it wasn’t enough. Many made it that far and were subsequently ignored, unknown. He needed respect from his colleagues and cohorts, from everyone. He enjoyed playing with power, stretching the line between legal and illegal to tempt fate.

  Vandalism as a teenager led to cheating on exams in college. Pushing the envelope became a way of life, testing the limits of his capabilities, and he eventually made a name for himself—under an alias, anyway—from a handful of major banking frauds overseas.

  When the opportunity to work for Olayemi Babalola presented itself, Lynch jumped at the chance. He impressed the boss from day one too. His hard work was culminating in this moment and he savored it. These events that would bring him untold renown and he cherished that privilege.

  Time flew by as he reflected on his childhood and how far he’d risen since his days as a near-orphan on the street. The moment of truth was arriving with gusto. His moment of truth. The mayor’s float completed its route through the city and the local dignitaries began to disembark from the large craft. As the moment neared, Lynch felt his chest swell with importance. He basked in that aura of significance.

  Lifting his right arm, he gave a short, exaggerated wave to the Girl Scout troop parading in front of him. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a big smile. Then his world went black.

  ***

  Will couldn’t believe his luck. Attempting to avoid the cheering crowds, he ducked down a narrow side street, where he nearly ran smack into the face of the devil himself. Sean Lynch leaned against the brick wall, a grin on his face and his mind elsewhere. The sudden appearance of the man he’d been hunting didn’t faze him. Will wasn’t even sure Lynch noticed his arrival.

  Ducking a few steps away into a doorway, he mulled his options. This was exactly what he hoped for, but he never expected a chance to enact vengeance so soon. He didn’t feel prepared. Standing there, about ten feet behind Lynch, waves of anger surged inside Will. He didn’t bother trying to control them.

  The ire clouded his vision as images of his dearly departed flashed before him. Allison Ricketts. Miles Curtis. Arthur Adair. Edward Booth. And lastly, Booth’s daughter…he never even got her name. He couldn’t let this opportunity to avenge their deaths slip away. Grabbing the only weapon in the vicinity, a two-by-four leaning against a trash can behind him, he strode forward. His body ached from hefting the weight of the beam and his cast groaned, but he didn’t care.

  He’d played high school baseball and as he stepped into it, his sweet swing returned to him as though it’d never left. With one arm in a cast, he lacked the power he once had, but it would be enough. Lynch raised his hand to wave to someone in the parade as the heavy wooden beam whistled through the air behind him.

  Thunk. It connected solidly with the back of the head. The plank splintered upon impact, the result of a rotten core, and Lynch dropped. A second sickening smack sounded as his head hit the brick walk below.

  The roar of the crowd muted the sound of the attack and no one took notice of the violent scene behind them. Will’s broken arm ached as he stood over Lynch, gazing down at what he’d done, but he savored the pain. Then instinct to
ok over. He spun and staggered down the alley as fast as his aching frame allowed, the soft echoes of his footsteps chasing him as he went.

  ***

  Olayemi didn’t wait for the culmination of Lynch’s signal. As soon as the man’s hand flinched skyward, he acted. It was time.

  He stiffened as he turned to his left to face Roth, raising his hand in a mock salute.

  Chapter 36

  Jill Roth had been leaning against a concrete column for the last half hour. It stood near the main gate of a fence that circumnavigated the capitol property. She posed as though resting, relaxed in a pair of tight jeans and a long jacket protecting her from the chilly breeze. Her extensive training allowed her to remain calm, every position precise and every move deliberate. But there was nothing casual about her work. She was a professional and took pride in that.

  She kept close watch on her boss to her right. She hated the word “boss.” It implied she worked for him, like some lowly employee. He would sign her paycheck for this job, but she operated freelance. At any time, she could back out and be fine.

  Heck, she could double-cross the man and collect the cash for herself. The temptation had flitted across her mind, but she always reconsidered. She may kill for a profession, but betrayal was beneath her, reserved for the scumbags of the crime world.

  Yemi, on the other hand, she didn’t trust. She’d learned the hard way that men like him are greedy, unwilling to share with their own mother. They’ll kill their most trusted advisor if it benefited them. Every time she gazed into a mirror, a faint scar that ran from cheek to ear served as a constant reminder to trust no one. She never forgot that.